


Of Metal And Man

by Cookiejuice



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gun play, No beta we die like mace windu, Plot What Plot, Vaginal Fingering, or blaster play actually??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:54:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28371966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cookiejuice/pseuds/Cookiejuice
Summary: You can’t sleep, so you decide to take a walk through the palace, running into none other than the King himself.
Relationships: Boba Fett/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 135
Collections: Boba Fett





	Of Metal And Man

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing gunplay hello. I was inspired by jangofctts on tumblr and their horny anons.

The palace was quiet as you walked through its long, dimly lit hallways. You didn’t actually have a destination in mind, just wherever your feet would take you. The suns had already set hours ago, and most of the workers had gone to bed. But sleep did not want to take you, apparently. Leaving you staring at the ceiling, brows furrowed in annoyance. It’s not that you weren’t tired, it’s just that your brain could not seem to shut down. Playing you images upon images of _him_. Boba Fett, the new ruler of the palace.

The way he’d sit upon that throne, broad and imposing, oozing sheer power. Making deals with the scummiest of scums, but always fairly. He’d make sure everyone in the palace was well taken care of. His helmet had turned in your direction more than a few times, but you always looked away first, feeling unworthy to be regarded by such a man. Yet, fate had smiled upon you just once.

It was when you decided to use you free time to work on your blaster skills, about two moons ago. Your aim was good, but not perfect. You hit the target, but not dead center. He had come in, and his presence made you so nervous you missed, _terribly_. A low hum reached your ears as he took a stand next to you, watching your work. “Not bad, little one”. His rough voice through the modulater combined with the proximity made your heartbeat flare up.

Taking a step to the side as he nudged you gently, you watched as he unsheathed his own blaster, firing rapid shots at the target. All dead center. His quick hand and fingerwork made your breath hitch, and you swallowed as you looked from the smokey residue on the target to him. Only to find him watching you. “Could- Could you do that again? I didn’t really see-“

A chuckle filled your hearing, but he obliged you, firing a few more rapid shots. And you watched him. Watched how his finger pulled the trigger, the plasma leaving the blaster, and the smoke at the end of the barrel that was gone when you blinked. Boba turned towards you as he sheathed his blaster again. “Keep practicing, mesh’la”, he hummed, tapping a gloved finger against the underside of your chin before turning to leave, and you released a breath you weren’t aware you were holding.

Your wandering feet had brought you to the throne room, and you stopped dead in your tracks at noticing it wasn’t empty. Boba seemed distracted, so you thought you could quietly turn around and leave. You were wrong.  
“Up so late, mesh’la?”, his voice carried over to you, and you turned around to face him, nodding. “Come here”. One foot in front of the other, you made your way to the other side of the room,to the throne. Boba extends his hand, and you take it, letting him guide you unto his lap. Your mouth feels dry, biting your lip as he settles you unto his strong thighs.

“What’s on your mind”. You snap your face towards his helmet, not expecting the question. His fingers gently caress your hip, and you try to stop your brain from short circuiting at the gentle words and ministrations. ‘Gentle’ and ‘Boba Fett’ did not fit in the same sentence, yet here you were. You nibbled on your lower lip, unsure what to say. The truth? Might as well, right?

“I— You”, you eventually stammer out as you looked down, and his gentle caress halts for but a split second before resuming, a curious hum vibrating from his helmet. “Me? Intrigueing.. Anything specific, little one?” Fumbling with the hem of your shirt while you found the words, distracted by his hand going lower, resting on your thigh. “Of.. of you firing your blaster—“.

If he was surprised at your confession, he did not show it. Instead, he took out the blaster from its holster, letting it weigh in his hand. “You like my blaster?” You nodded, still looking down. Cool metal was against your chin, tipping it upwards to face Boba. “Tell me more”. A gentle little tap of encouragement against your chin, and your breath hitched.

“I- I like when you fire it, hitting a target dead center”. Boba ran the tip of his blaster down your throat, and you swallowed. “Your precise aim, without effort”. The blaster was guided down your chest, your breath hitching when you could feel the cold metal against your nipple through the thin fabric of your sleep shirt. “Your quick finger, pulling the trigger as you fire shot after perfect shot”. The blaster ran down your stomach, over you thigh, making you shiver.

For some maker forsaken reason, your core had started to feel warm, and you rubbed your thighs together, hoping to get rid of it. Boba noticed, and he chuckled, pressing the tip of the blaster between your legs, nudging them apart. “I could shoot you right now. It would take me less than five seconds to take the safety off and pull the trigger”. His voice was low, a rumbling whisper next to your ear.

You couldn’t help it. You moaned, pressing your core against his blaster, seeking friction. Boba hissed, his grip on your waist tightening as he brough the blaster up to your face. “Open”, he commanded, and you obeyed, opening your mouth. He groaned, moving the blaster closer, and you wrapped your eager lips around it. You sucked and licked at the cold item, your eyes watching Boba. Not that you could read his face, with the helmet and all. You had seen his face before, but for some reason he preferred the helmet most days. Not that you minded.

The blaster was yanked from your mouth, thrown to the side, clattering to the floor. Boba’s hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly. “How dare you look so good, taking my blaster into your sweet little mouth”. You whined, rubbing your thighs together more roughly. Boba looked down, hand leaving your throat and dipping into your pants. A moan slipper past your lips as you felt his hand on you. “You’re soaking wet. And all this because of my blaster. I’d almost get jealous”.

You spasmed against him when he pushed not one, but two fingers inside of you, curling them into that delicious sweet spot. His other hand was now on your ass, squeezing it as he urged you to move your hips. And so you did, riding his fingers and drawing moans from you own lips, echoing off the walls of the throne room as you chased your orgasm. Boba watched you pleasuring yourself on him, how your lips parted, your cheeks flushed. Your hands gripping at his arm, digging in your fingernails.

You were close, you could feel it. And so could Boba, apparently, resting his helmet against your shoulder. “Cum for me, mesh’la”, he groaned next to your ear, and you tipped over the edge. Boba was flooding all your senses as you stumbled through your orgasm. His fingers in your cunt, his voice next to your ear, his warm body against yours. Convulsing, spasming, digging your fingers even more into his arm as your lips spilled a cry of his name. Boba finger fucked you through it all, retreating his hand when he felt you calm down.

He looked at his fingere, soaking wet and glistening from your orgasm, and brought them to your lips, where you greedily sucked them clean. Boba stroked your hair, resting you against his shoulder as your breath calmed down. You eyes felt droopy, you didn’t want to leave the comfortable spot on his lap. But you had to, at some point. Get back to bed, get some sleep.

“I should— you should— bed”, you mumbled, yawning. Boba chuckled, and before you knew it, he had stood up, carrying you. “What are you doing—?!”, you squeaked, arms flinging around his neck, and he hummed. “Bringing you to bed”. However, you frowned when he turned a left, when you were sure your room was to the right. “Uhm— my room is to the right—“ “I am aware. However, I am not taking your room. I’m taking you to mine ”.

Oh. That was fine, you guessed, as you let yourself doze off against him. That night, you slept the most comfortable you’d had in months. Safe and comfortable within Boba Fett’s arms.


End file.
